


Mandatory Shore Leave

by Lemon (lemon_sprinkles)



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Couch Sex, Don't Judge, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, fart jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_sprinkles/pseuds/Lemon
Summary: Fighting a war makes it difficult to carve out a bit of time to relax and unwind. But when Admiral Hackett orders the Normandy to dock for some much needed shore leave, Kaidan and Shepard take full advantage of their time alone. Too bad things don't go quite as smoothly as they had both hoped.





	Mandatory Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rego-mem](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rego-mem).



> Written for Rego-mem on tumblr who has been such a lovely presence in the fandom. Thanks for being awesome, peach!
> 
> Their artwork is fantastic, so go and take a look! 
> 
> I was inspired by a photograph I saw of two men having some similar fun on a slightly more comfortable looking couch~

 Wars are busy things.

 There is no time to breathe; no time to stop and assess. Every moment is spent running from map to map, speech to speech, and fight to fight. Battles are won through hard labour—emotional and physical—and no amount of stopping is going to help. Men and women work themselves to the brink, always telling themselves that ‘when this is all over, then I’ll—’

  _Write that letter home._

_Speak to them again._

_Sit down and read her a bedtime story._

_Tell him I love him._

 Wars are busy things. But a war against the Reapers?

 Busier.

XX

 Kaidan watched Shepard.

 He watched him spend every waking hour jumping from one firefighter into another, attending vid-calls that left him looking leaner every time, and spending what little time he had to rest hunched over the galaxy map, gaunt features striking in the gloom of the war room. Wars weren’t won through extended coffee breaks and fitful naps in the Starboard library; they were won by pushing yourself until nothing was left—until you destroyed yourself so that others could know peace.

 Or so Shepard told Kaidan and the rest of the crew whenever they decided to tell him to rest for a moment—to just sit down and _eat_ something for god sakes. 

 But just when it seemed like the Normandy would lose their Commander due to stubbornness, a voice of reason would call; a voice that mattered; a voice that could give orders to the stoic Commander Shepard.

 Hackett would reach through the busy signals and order Shepard and the crew of the Normandy to dock at the Citadel. He named the Normandy and her crew his ‘best war hound’, and demand that they got proper rest. He wasn’t going to win the war with his best men and women down for the count, and so he took the chance of actually ordering Shepard to eat a meal and close his eyes.

 Shepard might have been stubborn, but Hackett’s word was law. And so he relented, but with no small amount of fear in his gaze as he came to the realization that stopping meant time to think, time to assess, and time to realize the gravity of the situation they were in.

 Whenever those orders came in Kaidan would watch Shepard, reading his features for any hint of anxiety. First a glower would carve itself into his face, followed by stillness, and that telltale trace of fear would shoot through him like a crack in a whip.

 But then he’d look up at Kaidan, and there it would be—the smallest of hard fought smiles, cheeky and a little daring, and one that made Kaidan feel like he was the only one in the room—hell, the whole galaxy.

 After the Normandy docked it would be a mad dash to the apartment. Like teenagers in their first relationship Shepard and Kaidan would grab and pull one another in for quick kisses as they stumbled toward the apartment, giggles slipping past as they tumbled into the elevator, and needy hands grabbing firmly starched fatigues, pulling and almost ripping even before the elevator doors had fully shut.

 From there it was just a short walk to the couch. Kaidan’s knees hit the back of the armrest, fingers still balled in the collar of Shepard’s shirt as he pulled Shepard over edge with him, the two falling on top of the hard leather cushions. From there it was a messy but efficient divesting of clothing, the two desperate for unclothed contact after weeks of chaste hand holding under the mess hall tables, or brief hugs through heavy armour before they jumped into another firefight.

 Once nude it took little time for either to find their natural rhythm. Kaidan stayed beneath Shepard, back pressed against the cushions and legs locked around his waist, hands dragging up and down his back before grabbing a fistful of his ass and squeezing. Shepard let out a rare moan followed by a growl, one that was quickly swallowed up by Kaidan’s hungry mouth.

 Shepard tangled his fingers in Kaidan’s hair, tugging at the gelled curls as he braced himself best he could on the couch. It was narrow and uncomfortable, the couch made more for sitting and not wild, desperate fucking, but Kaidan did his best to stay on the couch by holding on to Shepard, counting on him to keep them from tumbling down on the floor.

 But it was hard to think about logistics when Shepard was so deep inside, tiny, quick thrusts brushing his prostate and filling him, making him ache and quake with pure _need_. Kaidan closed his eyes and got lost in the sensation, listening to Shepard’s heavy breathing against his neck and ear, the slap of flesh against flesh, and the—

 Kaidan opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, brows furrowing as the noise persisted.

 There were common noises during sex—moaning and panting, the smacking of balls against someone’s ass, whimpers and desperate babbling. And then there were the embarrassing noises; the ones that crept up in the middle of what had been an entirely pleasant affair. They were the pained gasps as a leg cramp set in, the ‘stop it you’re on my hair’, and then the rare but probably most embarrassing of them all: the fart noise.

 But the fart noise wasn’t supposed to be a persistent thing. It happened once—maybe twice—before things returned to their natural sexy state.

  _This_ fart was persisting.

 Kaidan fumbled through the range of physical reactions he was having in that moment in order to try and figure out if _he_ was the one producing all the noises. When he was certain that he wasn’t, he moved onto Shepard—Shepard who seemed completely oblivious to the sound being produced and continued to merrily pound into Kaidan at an intense and very distracting beat.

 But then he started to slow, and so did the fart noises. It was then that Shepard seemed to realize something was amiss, and he raised his head to look at Kaidan, brows furrowed and confusion in his eyes.

 It was the couch. It was their skin against the couch. Sweaty, sticky skin plus smooth leather underneath said sweaty, sticky skin, all made for one very odd noise effect.

 Kaidan couldn’t help but start laughing. The realization ripped through him like a less pleasant orgasm, and he couldn’t contain the short bark that slipped past his lips—even as Shepard remained tucked deep inside. There was a brief pause where Shepard didn’t say or do anything, but eventually he too joined in, his deep chuckles reverberating through Kaidan as he rested his forehead against his.

 “I thought that was you,” Shepard admitted through the laughter.

 “And I thought it was you,” Kaidan said.

 Shepard laughed harder.

 It was turning Kaidan on further. Shepard’s laughter, his cock still throbbing deep inside, and the press of his body—so heavy and firm—against his own was enough to push aside the awkwardness from before, and Kaidan found himself grinding down and rolling his hips more and more with each passing second, his laughter mixing with deep moans as they once again picked up their rhythm.

 Things quickly returned to normal, and Kaidan once again got lost in Shepard and his entirety. His hands roamed over the scars across Shepard’s skin, lips parted and tongue rubbing against Shepard’s own, their bodies pressed so tight together, sending every nerve in Kaidan alight with pleasure.

 He was closing in to his orgasm, mind trapped in the pure ecstasy of Shepard on top of him— _inside_ him—that Kaidan began to lose track of his physical surroundings. Eyes closed and brows furrowed, Kaidan thought of nothing but Shepard.

 And then the fall came.

 Literally.

 Shepard’s hand slipped on the couch cushion and he came crashing down on top of Kaidan. In their mad thrusting and unsteady movements Kaidan had begun to slip off the couch well before Shepard’s mishap, and the added pressure from Shepard’s fall had tipped the balance, sending the two of them tumbling down on to the floor.

 It was only Kaidan’s surprise biotic flare that saved them both from broken skulls, an injury that would have been hard to explain to Chakwas given that they were on leave.

 It took Kaidan a moment to muddle out what had happened and where he was in relation to both Shepard and the floor. His bottom half was still resting on the edge of the couch, legs wrapped tight around Shepard’s torso, his ass stuck up in the air while the rest of him remained thoroughly debauched and stunned on the floor. Shepard was poised above him, elbows on the floor and knees digging into the cushions of the couch, eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at Kaidan.

 He’d pulled out in the ensuing madness—probably saving himself from another injury he’d have to explain to Chakwas—but Kaidan could feel him pressed against his ass.

 He was still ready to go.

 Kaidan was too.

 Their eyes met. They’d been interrupted by a Reaper war, by EDI, by Joker and half the Normandy crew, and now, while on leave, they were interrupted by fart noises and a stupidly narrow couch with a high back that made it uncomfortable to sit on let alone have sex on.

 Their lips met in a brutal crush, and Shepard guided himself back in while he braced the back of Kaidan’s neck with his free hand. Kaidan’s legs fell forward, and the position spread him open further. He thrust awkwardly upward, meeting Shepard thrust for thrust, years of crunches finally coming in handy. The position didn’t last long, the two slipping fully on to the floor, one of the throw blankets the only thing saving Kaidan’s back from the hardwood floor.

 Shepard was relentless in his assault, and Kaidan moaned into their shallow, messy kisses. He was close—achingly so—and gripped himself and began stroking, every nerve on fire as they coaxed each other to the brink. Shepard sat up and dragged Kaidan’s ass on to his lap, gripping his hips as he shallowly jerked right up against his prostate.

 That was all it took.

 Kaidan spilled over with a cry, back arching off the uncomfortable floor, ribbons of cum splashing across his stomach and thighs. He could feel Shepard reach his end in the haze of his orgasm, body quaking up above as he gripped Kaidan’s hips and sunk himself deep inside one last time.

 And then it was done.

 Kaidan collapsed back on to the floor, the back of his head hitting the wood a little harder than he’d have liked.

 Shepard made a noise in the back of his throat, and Kaidan opened his eyes to see that in the ensuing madness his legs had managed to hook themselves over Shepard’s shoulders, and Shepard was using his calf as a pillow. His eyes were closed, kiss bruised lips parted as he breathed through his afterglow, while his broad hands gently pet Kaidan’s thighs.

 From mad, frantic sex to gentle, afterglow cuddles.

 “So… couch sex,” Kaidan mumbled.

 Shepard chuckled and dropped Kaidan’s legs. For a second Kaidan had his knees drawn up around his ears, and wondered if there was going to be a second round—already—before Shepard pulled out and sat back, giving Kaidan room to stretch out.

 The space only lasted a few seconds before Shepard was right on top of him again, tangling their legs together. Kaidan was sticky and out of breath, and Shepard’s body on top of him was now, post-orgasm, a little unpleasant. But they’d waited too long for this moment—they’d waited too long just to _touch_ one another—that he didn’t dare ask Shepard to move.

 “Next time, if we can make it, I say we fuck on the bed,” Shepard mumbled against Kaidan’s neck.

 Kaidan hummed in agreement. “Yeah… yeah, that’s uh… probably for the best.”

 There was a pause, both catching their breath as they lay on the floor, tangled up in a blanket Kaidan was pretty sure needed a good washing now. Wrapping his arms around Shepard, Kaidan hugged him close, enjoying the reprieve—enjoying the chance to just _breathe_ for a moment. Right here, right now, nothing mattered but the two of them. It was a foolish, potentially dangerous outlook to have, but in that moment Kaidan didn’t care about the war.

 He just cared about Shepard and how there wasn’t even an inch of space between them.

 Kaidan had almost nodded off when Shepard spoke.

 “Although seeing you spread out like that with your ass in the air? Your hungry fucking hole surrounding my cock?”

  Shepard lifted his head, and Kaidan realized that maybe round two wasn’t as far away as he initially thought.

 And he was fairly certain they weren’t going to make it to that fabled bed they’d just spoken about.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! And hey, if you've got a tumblr come and say hello. You can find me at lorastyrell.com


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